


A Human Condition

by manic_intent



Series: Human Nature [1]
Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Prompt: Domestic drama, That AU where John doesn't leave the Marines early and so never becomes an assassin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-07 00:11:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11611869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: “I wasn’t talking about the restaurant,” Gianna said, though she glared murderously at serving staff as they tried to swoop in to re-fold John’s napkin. The staff backed off. Good survival instincts. “I was talking aboutJohn. Your new special friend.”“What about John?”“Where did you even meet him? Tinder? Grindr?”“If you really must know, we met at a bar. He bought me a drink. Nice and old-fashioned.”John had looked surprised when Santino had gone over to talk to him after, out of curiosity, and then had been even more disbelieving afterwards when Santino had invited him home. Good for the ego. One thing had led to another.“Oh my God. That’s all it took?”





	A Human Condition

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 2 from tumblr: Domestic Drama 
> 
> It was tempting to just write something that slotted into an existing ‘verse, but I really love writing AUs, especially the “no powers” sort of ‘verses. Thinking about it though, I think the John Wick ‘verse is pretty much 80% of the fun of writing in this fandom so excising it completely is just going to be boring. And I also wanted to write a ‘verse where Gianna remains the boss. So here is an AU where John never becomes an assassin, because he doesn’t leave the Marines early. Because John never becomes the Baba Yaga, Gianna remains boss of the D’Antonio family.

“You must be fucking kidding me,” Gianna hissed in Neapolitan, when John excused himself to go to the bathroom. 

Santino looked around the restaurant. They were by one of the great glass windows, although the general effect was mired in translucent white curtains. Cassian hadn’t been happy about the seating when he’d learned about it. Security risk, apparently. But he was probably prowling outside, along with the rest of their retainers, so Santino wasn’t too worried. Or was it the decor? Stick-like lighting, dark carpeting, all right, maybe rather old-fashioned. 

“I thought Per Se would’ve improved after they had to apologise for that bad review.” 

“I wasn’t talking about the restaurant,” Gianna said, though she glared murderously at serving staff as they tried to swoop in to re-fold John’s napkin. The staff backed off. Good survival instincts. “I was talking about _John_. Your new special friend.”

“What about John?”

“Where did you even meet him? Tinder? Grindr?”

“If you really must know, we met at a bar. He bought me a drink. Nice and old-fashioned.” 

John had looked surprised when Santino had gone over to talk to him after, out of curiosity, and then had been even more disbelieving afterwards when Santino had invited him home. Good for the ego. One thing had led to another. 

“Oh my God. That’s all it took?” 

“No. Of course not.” Santino stared at his sister. “Why is there a problem?” 

“Does he know?”

“About what?” 

Gianna glanced around again. “The _life_. Your life. Who you are.” 

“No?” Santino took a sip of his wine. “I’ve done this before. I know what I’m doing. Calm down.” 

“How am I supposed to calm down? You can’t hide forever. And he’s dangerous. He’s in the Marines.” 

“He’s _retired_ from the Marines. Besides,” Santino said, nodding at the translucent curtains and beyond, where both Ares and Cassian were likely keeping a look out, “ _we’re_ dangerous.”

Gianna narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t about me ascending to the High Table instead of you, is it?” 

That still ached. Santino had been furious for a week. But that was months ago now, and once he’d calmed down, he’d understood why his father had chosen his sister. Even if he was maybe still a little bitter about it. “No. Come on.”

“So what’s the appeal?” Gianna asked, still suspicious. “He’s older than you by far. He’s older than _me_.” 

“I think he’s interesting.” 

Gianna sucked in a deep breath, but she somehow smiled prettily when John reappeared and sat back down. He was uncomfortable in his new suit, though he looked good in it—probably the first tailored suit John owned. The dinner was average. Gianna asked John about his service in the Corps and expertly deflected questions about their business. Afterwards, they fought over the bill. Santino won. He kissed his sister good night and she made them promise to meet her for brunch.

On the way home, Ares driving, John said, “I don’t think your sister liked me.” 

“That’s her default attitude towards people. She says it means she’s less likely to end up disappointed.”

“You said she was older than you?”

“Eight years older. Still tries to treat me like a child sometimes. Buying me things. Paying for bills.” Santino patted John’s thigh. “I told _you_ not to try to pay. That bill was worth several months of your pension.”

“Not like I use it for much. Since you try to pay for everything.” 

“I can afford it.” 

“Don’t need handouts,” John said. He was in a strange mood, Santino realized belatedly, staring out at traffic. Normally John was more affectionate, if clumsily so. Santino caught Ares’ eye in the rearview window. She arched an eyebrow, but he gave her a brief shake of his head. He could handle a little household drama.

The place that John thought was Santino’s home was really more of a luxurious safehouse. Penthouse apartment, good security, buffer floors below full of staff. John was quiet in the lift, though he knelt to pet Dakota as the old Malinois mix padded over to greet them, a retired K9 from the Corps. Santino hadn’t been sure about having dogs in his apartment at first, but she had turned out to be better behaved than most people Santino knew. Smarter, too. She looked between them, ears twitching, and let out a worried little sound. John gestured, and she padded back to the dog bed by the balcony, sinking down with a little whine. 

“Does she think I’m in trouble, or you’re in trouble?” Santino said, amused despite himself. 

“Think I’m the one usually in trouble.” John pulled him over tentatively and they ended up on the couch, shoes kicked off somewhere. John kissed him, a gentle brush against his mouth. “I know why your sister doesn’t like me. I don’t blame her.”

“Oh?” Santino settled down pointedly over John’s lap, but John merely stared at him with those intense, sad puppy-like eyes. 

“I’m an old gunny sergeant with nothing much to my name. You’re young and rich.”

“And really hot?” Santino prompted, with a quick smirk. John didn’t laugh. 

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re always serious. It’s a character flaw.” Not even a smile. Santino exhaled. “Look. My sister has been like this all my life, all right?”

“You guys are close.” 

“Not sure if that’s how I would put it.” Santino _had_ very nearly been tempted to have his sister killed.

“You call her everyday. Text, too. That’s pretty close.” 

“We run a large business together. Can’t be avoided.” Santino wriggled closer, until they were nearly flush. “What’s the problem, John?”

“You’re way out of my league and your sister knows it,” John said, blunt to the bitter end. “She’s just waiting for you to catch on.” 

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Santino said, making a show of leaning in, brushing a kiss against John’s ear. John tensed a little against him, then he relaxed, hands stroking up and down Santino’s thighs, his touch always gentle. Reverent. Santino grinned against his skin. “ _No one_ is ‘in’ my league. All of you are equally not worth my time.”

John’s hands froze for a moment, then he snorted as Santino reared back smugly. “This is important. Don’t be an asshole.”

Santino grumbled under his breath, squirming to get comfortable, stretching his legs over the couch. “Fine. Go on. Get it out of your system.” 

Arms curled around Santino’s waist. “Now you’re getting mad.”

“Oh, you noticed.”

John tensed up again. He hated fights. Normally he would just give in quickly, a characteristic that Santino appreciated. He had enough drama in his usual life. Even though he sensed it wasn’t really because John was afraid of conflict. Today, to Santino’s surprise, John persisted. “Your sister has a point.”

“What?” Santino glowered up at John. “So it’s true? You’re here to kill me and steal my money? You’re out of luck. I’ve already willed everything to Dakota.”

Dakota perked up at her name. John let out a helpless, soft chuckle, the sound startled out of him, and nuzzled Santino’s hair, rueful. “You’re such an ass.”

“That’s not the reason why Gianna doesn’t like you. She thinks you’re too different. From different worlds.” 

John thought this over. “I guess.”

“Why do you care that she cares?” Santino prodded his shoulder.

“Because _you_ care,” John said. “Or I don’t think you’d have taken us to such a fancy place for a first meet and greet.” When Santino frowned to himself, John said, “Look. I’m just. I don’t know why it upset me. I mean, it’s true. I lucked out.” 

Ah. “And you don’t think it’d last.” John was quiet. Santino glared up at him. “So what? You want to prove her point?” 

“No… just. No. Okay.” John kissed him. Santino bit down, annoyed, but when John only winced and kept licking against his mouth he relented. They kissed until John was panting and squirming against him, eager for more, though John never pushed. More of his odd boundaries. Santino tackled their belts, then their pants, growling as he navigated clothes until their cocks were pressed together between them, nudged between their shirts. 

John made a mumbled sound of protest, then, “Gonna get all that dirty.”

“You’re going to piss me off if you… ngh… want to stop because of that,” Santino warned, nudging his hips up. Flesh to flesh. The tip of his cock caught against the cap of John’s thicker, longer one, making John shiver. “I’ll buy you a new shirt.”

“Kinda wish you’d stop buying me clothes,” John said, though he obligingly closed his hand around Santino’s, squeezing and pulling with that gorgeous easy strength. 

“Can we have this discussion later?” Santino pointedly bit John hard on the neck, high over where a collar could hide it, and worked in his teeth as John moaned and jerked into Santino’s grip. 

John finally took the hint. He shut up, rolling his hips, hands clenching and unclenching over Santino’s waist, his thighs, breathing in high, stuttering gasps. It was better like this, the both of them quiet, worlds forgotten in the rush of sex-want-release, chasing pleasure. Santino was first, making a mess over John’s hand, his shirt, grinning as he kissed John roughly. Leaving an imprint. John shivered and thrust against him, desperate to follow. Slower. Santino leaned back to watch.

Afterwards, on the bed, John said, “I mean it about the clothes.” 

“You didn’t have a suit,” Santino mumbled, curled against John and comfortable. 

“I do.” 

“Didn’t have a suit that wasn’t obviously a piece of shit,” Santino corrected himself. 

“You don’t have to keep buying me stuff,” John said, clearly deciding to be stubborn about it. “You already let Dakota and me live here.”

“Mmhmm. And you cook, you’re fun in bed, and if anyone trying to kidnap me for my money gets past Ares I suppose you can be my last decrepit line of defense,” Santino said, with an idle wave. “Dakota too.”

John eyed him very seriously. “Yeah.” 

“That was a joke.”

“Not to me.”

“You’re in your fifties and Dakota’s older in dog years. Please. You’d both hurt your backs trying.” Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. Ever. 

“We’re not that old. But seriously. You don’t need to buy me things. Okay?”

“If you want to take all the fun out of being rich, fine.” Santino scowled, and kept scowling as John nudged closer, content now that he’d gotten his way. Showed him how much he knew. The new car was already in the garage.

#

John tried not to get angry anymore, because he’d seen the way he could get when the fuse burned to the end and he’d always hated that part of himself. It was a long fuse, at least. And it _was_ a nice car. He turned the engine off, leaned out of the window. Santino smirked at him, leaning against his own car, a flashy as hell yellow Ferrari. Beside its sleek lines, the ’69 Mustang looked seriously out of place.

“How’d you guess?” John asked finally. 

“Please, like I haven’t seen you stare longingly every time a car like that passes by in the street. I could be jealous.”

“I’ll pay you back,” John said, getting out of the car. 

Santino pretended to think about it. “You want to go back to bed?”

John pinned Santino against the Ferrari. “How much was the car?” 

“Cheaper than I thought.”

“C’mon. Don’t make me guess.” 

“Kiss me and we’ll call it even.”

John took in a deep, slow breath. The fuse was getting a little shorter. Over a dumb reason. He pushed away, raised his hands. “Never mind.” 

Santino caught up to him at the lift, exasperated. “I expected a little more gratitude, somehow.” 

“I told you not to keep buying me stuff.” John tried to stay patient. 

“The car was already in the garage when you said that. Besides, this is hardly going to put me out of pocket.”

“Not the point.” 

“So what’s the point?” Santino turned him away from the lift, narrow-eyed. “Explain.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“This isn’t about my sister again, is it?” Santino said, suspicious. 

“No. Not really. I know rich people like to buy stuff for the people they’re dating. Gifts and stuff, right?” At Santino’s nod, John exhaled. “I don’t want it to be like that.” 

“What? Dating?”

“Every time you get me something that we both know I’d never afford by myself. It just reminds me all over again, all right? It’s like having a new pet. Something to shower with attention until you get bored.” 

Santino bit down on his lower lip, wide-eyed. “It’s not like that.” 

“People don’t listen to a pet,” John said. He was starting to feel a dull, heartsick ache in his chest, but at least the fuse had gone out, chilled away. He was tired now. “I’m. Going for a walk.” 

Nice thing about the beautiful apartment: Central Park was nearby. John wished he’d gone up to get Dakota, but walking by himself without having to keep an eye on her wasn’t so bad. He sat down near a stone fountain and watched some birds for a while. 

Eventually, someone sat down beside him. John wasn’t entirely surprised to recognise Gianna. She smiled at him, offering him a takeaway cup. It was coffee, made exactly the way he preferred it. “Hello, John.” 

“Gianna.”

“You’ve upset my brother.”

“I guess.”

Gianna lifted her shoulder into a gentle shrug. Beyond the fountain, close by, John could see the head(?) of Gianna’s security, watching the crowd. There were other members of her detail peppered around. Santino was the same, travelling in a protected bubble. It’d made John restless at the start, then he’d felt sorry for the siblings. Wealth had made it impossible for them to have normal lives. 

“He probably deserved it,” Gianna said, and smiled over the rim of her own coffee. When John stared at her, she laughed. “I know my own brother. He’s been very spoiled all his life and it’s given him a complex. Partly my fault.” 

John wasn’t sure what to say, so he nodded slowly. Gianna sighed. “It’s not that I don’t like you, John. I think as far as my brother’s playmates generally go, you’re actually a marked improvement.” 

“Thanks…?”

“Which would be fine, if that’s where it stands. But when the pet becomes more than just a pet, then there might be a problem.” 

Ouch. “I don’t want his money. Or yours.”

“And I believe you,” Gianna said, smiling again. “Or I’d already have had you shot.” Shovel talk? Somehow, it stood to reason that the most chilling version that John had ever heard had come from someone’s big sister. “You don’t want money. You want something else, something more complicated.” 

“Is it?” 

“You don’t live in our world. You’re just a visitor. You see things but you don’t actually _see_. In the circumstances, an undue attachment is dangerous.”

“…So you’re going to have me shot anyway?” 

Gianna sighed. “Don’t tempt me. Frankly, I don’t care about you. I just want my brother to be happy. I don’t think you’re capable of doing that for the long term.”

John stared at his hands. He couldn’t really refute that. He hadn’t even known how to make _himself_ happy. Before he had met Santino. He knew what amused Santino, what made him laugh, or moan, or grin with that beautiful sly mischief, but sometimes John just felt he lacked context. He’d never really tried it before. Making someone else happy. 

“However,” Gianna said, “I also think you’d probably try harder than most.” She smiled again when John looked sharply at her. “And you won’t spoil him all the time. He needs that. Someone who won’t always bend to his bullshit.”

“He’s a grown man.” 

Gianna rolled her eyes. “In my experience, men hardly ever do grow up. But yes. I think you might be good for him. At least for now. So I forgive you for making me miss brunch. We can do that tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Gianna patted the back of his palm. “I haven’t enjoyed myself this much for a while.” At his stare, she chuckled. “It’s not often that my brother doesn’t get what he wants. But he holds grudges, and if you haven’t realized by now, he has a terrible temper.”

#

Negotiations on a new meth pipeline had grown complicated, even with Gianna present, which meant it was late by the time Santino got home. John was asleep on the couch, Dakota sprawled over him. She looked up when Santino opened the door, scrambling over to greet him. By the time she was petted and calm, John was sitting up, rubbing his eyes.

“You didn’t have to wait up,” Santino said.

“Lost track of time.” John got up, coming closer. When Santino didn’t budge, John pulled him close, burying his mouth against Santino’s neck. His nose was cold. “I talked to your sister.”

“I heard.” 

“She’s just worried about you.” 

“Don’t start.” Santino leaned his cheek against John’s shoulder as John pressed a kiss under his jaw. “Any revelations?”

“She said I was an improvement on your usual playmates.”

Santino rubbed a hand slowly over his face. Damn his sister. “Technically true and yet cruelly said. Typical.” 

“I want to mean more to you than that. That’s what I was trying to say. Except it became about that car. But it isn’t about the car.” 

“So I gathered.” 

“Okay. That’s all I wanted to say.” John started to pull away, but Santino curled his arms around his back. 

“I don’t see you as a pet. If you really don’t want that car, I’ll get rid of it.”

John closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t want to talk about the car.”

“And in the future, I’ll try to respect your wishes.”

“‘Try’?” 

Santino pinched his arm. “No further promises.” 

“You really are a serious jackass,” John said, though he kissed Santino on the edge of the mouth before he could scowl. Santino nudged over for a proper kiss, until John relaxed and started to rub slow circles up and down Santino’s back. 

Maybe this could work.

“I’ll pay you back for the car,” John murmured, brushing a kiss over Santino’s throat, just above the starched collar. 

“Oh, so you _do_ like it.”

“Don’t start.”

**Author's Note:**

> this terrifyingly ugly pdf about career progression in the Marines haha http://www.9thmcd.marines.mil/Portals/82/Docs/Mod%208-Staying%20Marine%20Section.pdf  
> the review https://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/13/dining/pete-wells-per-se-review.html?_r=0  
> pension https://www.sapling.com/8625780/much-marine-sergeant-make-year  
> http://www.uswardogs.org/united-states-working-dog-adoptions/  
> \--  
> twitter: manic_intent  
> tumblr: manic-intent.tumblr.com


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